For the Love of Light

One of last week's sunrises.

The Creator is kind. He designed the world so that, as the sun grows weak and the days grow short, nature compensates as the trees lose their leaves and what light there is floods the garden and the house. During late fall and winter our house, minus the shade of the maples, is very bright on a sunny day and that lifts my spirits. Even the nights are brighter without the leaves. On a clear night, the stars shine from horizon to horizon through the bare trees. I crave light.

I love light. It is complex in its nature and not completely understood by science. It is the source of life for our world. When light is abundant, life flourishes. Spring and summer, the seasons most filled with light are full of verdant life. Fall and winter, when light diminishes, are seasons of decline and dormancy. The scriptures abound with references to light. From Genesis to Revelation, 1 Nephi to Moroni, and throughout the Doctrine and Covenants, we are taught about light and its relationship to creation, to life, to knowledge and intelligence, and to its source – Jesus Christ the Light and Life of the world. Someday, in the Millennium perhaps, when all things are revealed, God will offer a comprehensive class on light and I will have a front row seat.

Monday was the sort of October day I dream about. It was chilly in the morning, but the sun was bright and it warmed into the 70's, perfect Indian Summer weather. I went out as soon as the chill wore off and spent the day reveling in what I knew to be a rare and soon to be extinct sort of day. I raked the last drifts of leaves from the front yard to the edge of the road and burned them. I love the smell of burning leaves. It conjures up deep memories of other autumns. When I finished burning, I worked in the garden. There were still some frost burnt remains of plants to consign to the compost – brittle sunflower stalks, dried dill stalks that still gave off a wonderful aroma as I pulled them up, and desiccated morning glory vines with their sad mummified flower buds that never had a chance to bloom. Kurt was working in the big garden on his tractor, tilling compost into the long rows, preparing the soil for planting in the spring. I took a break and went over to discuss garden plans for next year with him. While we planned, we harvested the last of the cabbages. They looked a bit motley with their tattered outer leaves, but inside they were perfect. There’s nothing left to harvest now. The day ended in a radiant amber glow as the sun went behind the hills. It was a lovely day.

Burning leaves.

The last cabbages and end of this year's harvest.

Last light of the day.

There are two basic types of fall weather here, the kind we had on Monday, the golden Indian Summer sort, and kind we had on Tuesday, gray and misty. I prefer the former, but the latter is more prevalent. The days are short and getting shorter. It stays dark long after I’m up for the day. The sun doesn’t rise until 7:30. On days when I have school, it isn’t up until I’m there. When I let the chickens out before I leave, they look at me as if I’m crazy for opening the door before it’s light. The solstice is still fifty-one days away, so it’s going to get even darker before the light starts to return.

Sun setting through bare trees.

After staying gray and misty until noon on Tuesday, the sun finally broke through and it turned out to be a beautiful day. I worked in the yard most of the afternoon. I mowed the orchard and the lawn. I think that will be the last mowing of the year, at least I hope it will be. I’m ready to put the mower away until spring. After mowing, I burned a weedy patch at the back of my vegetable garden. Burning weeds smell almost as good as burning leaves.

The mowed orchard.

When I went down to do the chores on Tuesday afternoon, I realized that I was out of scratch grains for the chickens. I thought there was one more bucket, but when I opened it, it was empty. I give them scratch as a supplement to the regular feed I put in their feeders. I always throw four bowlfuls to them in the morning and again in the afternoon. They love to scratch for it in the dirt, hence the name. The chickens were not happy. They stood in their accustomed spot, waiting. When I closed the barn door and they realized there would be no scratch, there was some bitter complaining. They followed along the inside of the fence as I walked away, grousing at me. The same thing happened on Wednesday morning. If you’ve never heard angry chickens, they sound like a lot of scratchy voiced old women muttering threats. Wednesday evening, Stacey went up to Wellsville to run errands and bought a bag of scratch. Thursday morning, when I threw it to them, they seemed appreciative if a bit frantic. I try to keep my flock happy. I won’t let it happen again.

The flock enjoying their morning scratch.

I love surprises in my garden, well, some of them anyway. I don’t like to be surprised by a new disease or finding that skunks have been rooting up the lawn again. I like unexpected happy things like finding a bird’s nest I didn’t know was there or some flower that re-seeded itself and bloomed in a place where I did not think to find it. Last week I had one of those happy surprises. Many years ago while walking in the woods, I came across a stand of little witch hazels (Hamamelis virginiana). I dug up two and planted them in my woodland garden. Over the years, they’ve grown slowly. They are not a big tree to begin with and mine, after more than ten years, are only seven feet tall. The surprising thing about witch hazels is that they bloom in the fall. Mine, in all the years I’ve had them, have only bloomed twice before. They are blooming now. I noticed them while on a morning walk. They have odd flowers that look like crinkled yellow ribbons. Blooming so late in the year, I wondered what pollinates them. We’ve had hard frosts and freezes and even snow by the time they bloom. The butterflies, bees, wasps, and other insect pollinators have either died off, gone dormant, or gone south by then. Intrigued, I did some research and found that the primary pollinator of witch hazel is the owlet moth (Family Noctuidae genus Eupsilia) that remains active even when temperatures drop to near freezing. They shiver to raise their body temperatures enough to be active on cold nights. The world is a fascinating place.

My witch hazel in bloom.

Another surprise I love is to find bursts of color when and where I’m not expecting them. We’ve reached the time of year when things are starting to look a bit drab. The last vestiges of color on the hills are the oaks, alders, and larches. The oaks with their smoky oranges and rusty reds, the alders with their bright yellow, and the rich butterscotch of the larches are beautiful. Here in my garden, there isn’t much color left, at least I don’t expect to find much. But when I go for a walk and the light is just right and I come upon a vibrant red blueberry bush, a patch of maroon goose-neck loosestrife, a lingering purple pansy, a bright green Christmas fern, or even the silky brown tassels of the miscanthus grass glowing in the sunshine – I’m bedazzled.

Colors around the yard.

The larches of Gold.

A surprise pansy.

On Thursday I cut down my asparagus. The patch at the back of my vegetable garden is fifteen years old now, five 20' long rows of mature plants. They bring us gastronomic joy for a few weeks every spring. In the fall, after their ferny stalks have gone brown and brittle, I cut them down, pile them up and burn them. The back of the garden looks empty without them. I can hardly wait to see them again in April.

Friday morning was cold. It was 20° when I woke up and had only warmed to 22° when I went out at sunrise. I took a brief and quick-paced walk across the front yard, through the meadow, and down to the beaver pond. I noticed a thin layer of ice on the rain barrel by the back porch stairs as I came back to the house. Even walking quickly, I was chilled through. I might have to wear a warmer coat when I take my morning walks now. It warmed into the 50's during the day, a perfect temperature for hard outdoor work, which is what I did. Kurt and I spent most of the day out in the big garden. We took down the tomato supports, pulled up the dried up vines and tilled the row. We pulled up the spent broccoli and cabbage plants and sent them to the compost pile. Then we tilled the foursquare gardens and made them into two long beds. We knocked down the corn stalks and tried to burn them. The paper dry leaves burnt great, but the stalks are too juicy. They will have to wait until spring. It was a good day’s work and I’m glad to be that much closer to having the garden ready for winter.

Friday morning walk: through the meadow.

Friday morning walk: the house seen through the meadow.

Friday morning walk: out of the meadow into the big garden.

Friday morning walk: the beaver pond.

Kurt knocking down the corn stalks.

Attempting to burn the corn patch.

Speaking of winter, yesterday morning was even colder. It was 18° when I woke up. It took a while for things to warm up, but by noon it was actually a nice, warm, autumn day. I worked outside raking, tidying garden beds. I borrowed the Shillig’s power washer and cleaned the barn ramp, the front porch and as much of the house as I could reach without a ladder. This is a tidy time of year. With flower and vegetable beds tilled and tucked in, the fallen leaves cleared away, the mowing done for the year, and no weeds growing, the property looks neat.

Ice on the rain barrel by the back porch.

For the past two nights Miriam and Hannah have been working on carving jack-o’-lanterns. I had a large selection of pumpkins for them to choose from. They took the five biggest, and a few smaller ones. Our tradition is to watch scary movies while they carve. Last night they finished their creations and set them on the front porch.

Carving pumpkins.

Jack-o'-lanterns on the front porch.

It was cold again this morning, 18° again. I suppose that will be the case for the next long while. It was a pretty morning, with a pale pink sunrise. I find I walk faster when I take my morning stroll on these cold mornings. No leisurely ambling when your feet and hands are freezing. Today I conducted Sacrament Meeting as branch president for the first time. I was gone the last two Sundays. I’ve conducted many meetings as a counselor over the years, but not as the presiding person and somehow that made me nervous. I did okay. This was a fifth Sunday, so I was in charge of the second hour meeting. I chose to do a presentation and discussion of the Plan of Salvation based on an article from Book of Mormon Central. It is an excellent article, The Great Plan of Happiness: A Christ-Centered Visual Approach. Here is the link to it. I recommend you take a look at it.

https://archive.bookofmormoncentral.org/content/great-plan-happiness-christ-centered-visual-approach

Sunrise this morning.

So we are home from church. The day has warmed nicely. I don’t know what lunch will be yet, but I’m hungry enough not to care as long as there is enough of it. Tomorrow is Halloween, a holiday we don’t do much with. We’ve carved and set out the jack-o’-lanterns already. We have a bowl of candy by the door for the trick-or-treaters that never come and that we’ll eat ourselves while we watch a scary movie tomorrow night. And then it will be November.